Clunk Clunk Kenneth
by WhirlOfDestruction
Summary: Kenneth has grown to long for his old home and family, and tries to find a way back to his hometown. But what will happen when he is confronted by how much his world has changed? Rated T for safety.
1. Homesick

**I do not own Salad fingers. I'm not even sure I own the live version of Kenneth. But he belongs to the army. This is set before Salad went **_**completely **_**mutated and before the Great War had properly ended (a.k.a before EVERYBODY DIED!)**

_Clunk Clunk Clunk_

That was the sound of the man's footsteps. Limping across the dead grass. His speed was slow, but his eyes darted across the plains, taking in every detail. There wasn't much. What remained of the man's beloved home were a few wrecked and smoking houses, a few strands of sickly greenery, and a dead tree. The man chewed on his knuckles tearfully, whilst his mind conjured up the most blissful and painful memories of what it once was. A happy street, walking bystanders, foliage of all kinds.

And now, it was gone. The man stopped walking for a second, traumatised from the shock. How could it be? His corner of the world, his very centre when he was growing up, dead. Well, not completely dead. Houses still remained, however damaged, and there was a little bit of greenery. He sat down next to the few strands of grass, collecting his thoughts. His general said he was a fool to visit here. His general, had in fact, forbade it. He could picture him well. Addressing him and the rest of his private battalion, most of them from his hometown, most of them young boys and most of them scared.

"_Now men, I have received some bad news. Before I say it, I want you all to stay calm and think rationally. Do you promise me that?" _

"_Promise sir" _

"_Good. Now, I have received intelligence that your hometown has been bombed." _

The collective gasp that had gone up from that was heart breaking. It wasn't your average, oh-that's-bad kind of gasp, but the type that showed real pain. These men and boys had all been raised in that town, been educated. Probably had a girl back there as well. It was a country estate in the middle of nowhere, mostly surrounded by lush fields, so everyone knew everyone. That was one of the reasons why the news was such a shock. It wasn't the kind of place you'd expect to be bombed, so nobody was evacuated. On the contrary, all the city people had been brought in instead.

"_Sir?" _Said a small young private called Jason, who claimed to be twenty but in reality barely made sixteen.

"_Yes, private 406?" _

"_When can we visit it?" _He asked timidly.

Then the general laughed. It wasn't even a cruel laugh. A genuine one.

"_My boy, it wouldn't be safe and it would be pointless! It was bombed to the ground! Nothing would remain of it but a smoking wreck!" _He chortled.

Kenneth had gritted his teeth at that point. He was one of the oldest in his little troop, at twenty-five. He had always disliked authority figures that abused their power. He personally felt teachers constantly flexed their ability. This general wasn't bad, and Kenneth did have some respect for him, but when he made that comment about the smoking wreck, Kenneth resented him. How dare he? How dare the man slander their birthplace? How dare he dash a boy's hopes like that?

It made Kenneth want to go back. He had sat in his nuclear bunker with the rest of his troop, twiddling his thumbs and making thoughtful sounds. No, he decided, the general was wrong. The place would not be burned to the ground. His home wasn't like that. His home was happy. He had to find out for himself. The whole reason he joined up for the Great War was because he wanted to find out things. To be brave, to travel, and to find out what real life was like. His family had always been sceptical about him signing for the army, but they couldn't stop him. They did seem proud (and teary) when he boarded the train that would take him to the barracks. Particularly his older brother. He had been denied access to the army due to mental illness. Kenneth missed him. And his little sister too…their smiling faces were heart-breaking…He simply had to find out what had become of them. And he would. He swung his legs off the top bunk bed, and tiptoed over to Private Jason.

"_Hey, Jason…psst!"_

"_W-what? Kenneth? Am I late for morning roll call?" _

"_No, no Jason. It's just…I've been thinking…"_

"_About what? What does it have to do with me?" _

"_It's about our hometown. I don't think it would be bombed. I believe it still stands." _

"_You do?" _

"_Yes. And I'm going back there tonight." _

"_You can't…" _

"_I don't care. Will you come with me?" _

Jason thought for a moment, staring deep into Kenneth's brown eyes.

"_No." _he said.

"_What?"_

"_No. I'm not going back."_

"_Why?" _

"_Because…I believe what the general said. I trust him. He wouldn't fool around with us. Besides, if it is true, what will there be? Nothing." _Choked the boy.

Kenneth frowned.

"_Fine. I'll go by myself." _

"_Wait…Kenneth…don't…please…I know you don't believe me…" _

"_Too bloody right I don't."_

"_It'll be deserting! When you come back…"_

"_If I come back."_

"…_You'll be shot on sight! I'm begging you Kenneth, please, just stay with us." _

"_What about your family? I bet they'll be glad to see you."_

"_Get away from me!" _snapped Jason, covering his face with the blanket.Kenneth did feel bad after that. Jason was just a boy, and it was an impossible chance that his family- or anyone- had survived a bombing. But nevertheless, Kenneth realised he had to do this alone. He packed emergency rations (issued to every solider in the event of a nuclear bombing and/or separation from the army) and slipped off into the night.

Night and day he had walked, trudging over dead grass and smouldering remains. What remained of the outside world wasn't much. It wasn't a total wasteland, but he still had no clue where he was going. He was convinced he was going the wrong way, though he memorised this route back home in his sleep. He didn't know why, but instead of learning the route to the next army bunker (as they were instructed to) Kenneth had convinced himself to learn the route to hometown. Impractical and improbable, but Kenneth knew it nonetheless.

And so, after days of walking, he had reached what his guessed remained of his hometown. His lips were parched and his tummy rumbling, all the food and drink long gone, and here he was, on the edge of nothing. His heart sank. He was a fool. Why did he come here? Was he sick of the war? The war that had been going on for years? Countless years. So many nights…The war had consumed new lives, old lives, anyone's lives. It had been eating at him away for ages, the horror of war. Kenneth shrugged the thoughts off. He had to go back. He couldn't start thinking about how he hated the war. He was a soldier. He wasn't a little boy anymore. This wasn't his home anymore. The nuclear bunker where he spent his days was his home. He had no family. The soldiers and the rest of his troops were his family now.

He was slowly but surely tearing himself up. His mind was twisted and undecided, and silent tears rolled down Kenneth's cheek.

He didn't want to go back.

He wanted to stay here. He wanted to stay in what was once his happy place. He wanted to re-live his old life, where he was joyful, carefree, without responsibilities. It sickened him. He wouldn't want to go back to war. He couldn't even properly remember what started it. He vaguely knew it was another country, one with nuclear weapons and large armies. But what country, he couldn't remember. He knew that they ganged up on each other, other countries taking sides until they were like two vicious gangs, street gangs with not just stones, knives or insults, but with weapons of mass destruction. No, he did not want to go back to it. His eyes scanned the landscape, looking for some sign that there was still life, one sign that would reboot his happiness. To his surprise, he found it.

_22_

The numbers on the cabin were clear and shiny. They didn't even have a scratch on them. Neither did the cabin. Their old house…Kenneth's old shack, his families' dwelling…was still alive.

There was hope.

He found strength. Kenneth lifted up his tired body off the ground and ran to the house. He stumbled few times, but always got back up. He was home…he was FREE! His pace quickened the closer he got. Family, friends, everyone…waiting for him behind the door…

_Family, friends, everyone…waiting for him behind the door…_

In his excitement, he slammed into the door with all his might…It creaked open….


	2. Brother?

**This is actually a very short fanifc. Probably only 2 or 3 chapters. I attempted here to name characters. Wasn't exactly easy. **

"Hello…" said a voice.

Kenneth struggled to lift his bruised head up. He wanted to look upon the face of the voice. He KNEW that voice…longed for that voice. One of the people that had plagued his mind. And he was standing in front of him.

Their eyes met.

Kenneth stared. His brown eyes locked onto the drained red of the being. The voice was not of his memories, nor of his family. This was something else entirely.

Kenneth wouldn't even call it a 'man'. 'Creature' seemed like a better term for it, and even that was crude. How could this THING be his brother? It wore his brother's clothes, and lived in his house, but this in no way resembled his brother.

Without warning, the thing grabbed him. He cried out, and he struggled away as he was pulled inside. He shrieked out, exactly the opposite of what he had been told to do in this situation, but this was not about the war and not about the enemy. He attempted to yank his arm away, and started kicking viciously, but the monster- which was greenish, as if a human and a plant had been combined- grabbed hold. It's fingers were long, disgusting, and mouldy.

"Kenneth…" it muttered, smiling. The creature looked quite innocent. Creepy, but not with an evil nature. Kenneth wouldn't exactly use the term 'harmless' to describe it, but it didn't look like it had bad intentions. Kenneth gritted his teeth and held back tears.

So this was what had become of his home.

Somehow, this was even worse than if it had been bombed to the ground. He stared up at what remained of his brother, and tearfully asked "What happened Freddy? Where's everyone else? Where's the rest of us?"

Freddy, or what remained of Fredrick smith, the slightly kooky neighbourhood idiot smiled vacantly. As a boy, Freddy had always had a sense of not being quite right in the head. He often just sat inside cupboards when things got a little hectic, especially the days leading up to war. Kenneth loved his brother, his cheerful kind older brother that always looked out of him. Well, he tried to. It was more Kenneth that had to take care of Fred, as he was often bullied and taunted by neighbourhood children. Kenneth never let them hurt his brother's feelings.

"The great war…the great war…" Freddy muttered. He didn't release his grip, but swerved Kenneth down onto a rickety chair. Kenneth looked around the room. A few things from childhood were still there. A disconnected radio, the stove, chairs, a mattress. He craned his neck a little to the left, and there, sure as day, was the outline of the 'safety cupboard'

"Where've you been then Kenneth? O…out onto the b...Battlefield?" he inquired politely. Kenneth opened his mouth to speak, but then decided better of it. What was he going to do? Was he now a prisoner in his old home? What would Freddy do to him?

"Yes…fighting and sorts…" carried on Freddy, putting on a different voice. It was as if he was speaking for him. In a way, Kenneth was grateful. Freddie's eyes wandered over to Kenneth again, as if satisfied by the imaginary answer. Then his face fell into dismay. Kenneth was immediately worried.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked. He wasn't sure his brother had heard him.

"Your stomach's in two…" murmured Freddy under his breath. Kenneth looked this side. A cut, fixed up with stitches, was a very old wound he had got whilst fighting. It was nothing really. It was well healing.

"Freddy…that's not my stomach…and its fine, really it is. Don't bother with it. Nothing worth fretting over…" he said nervously. His speech got more and more frantic as his brother came closer.

"It's nothing…just a small cut…it's nothing Freddy…it's nothing…"

Freddy was holding something in his hands. With a stab of horror, Kenneth realised it was a rusty kitchen knife.

"Stupid doctors…knew they didn't know their mongooses from their arms…" muttered Freddy.

"Freddy, get AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed. He lurched back, and clattered against the table, tripping over. The creature, wild eyes, brandishing a knife, was standing above him.

Kenneth felt a sharp pain.

Freddy had dug the knife in, loosening the stitches. Kenneth cried out in violent agony, screaming for his brother to stop. His entire side was burning up.

"There now. Those army boys won't bother you anymore. I always said so…" mumbled Freddy, trailing off. He left the knife in, loosening his grip on it. Then he stared at the wall, caught in his own thoughts. Kenneth, wincing beyond pain, tried his best to take it out. It clattered onto the ground. Tears were in his eyes as he grabbed hold of his side…The knife had gone into him deep…Blood flowed from his hands.

Freddy was brought out of his daze, staring at the knife on the ground. He looked pleasantly surprised. "Oh, is this from your barracks? What a queer thing to have lying around in the war." He said, smiling. He caressed it slowly, and dug it into his knee. He sat down beside the figure of his younger brother on the ground, and hugged him. Blood drenched his knee and the rest of his leg.

"So nice of you to visit…" he trailed off, before the world started swimming. He blacked out.


	3. Goodnight

Kenneth's body was bleeding on the ground.

He was dead.

He had a gigantic red pool around it, and his entire left side had been cut open. On a chair next to him was his killer, although his killer didn't know what he'd done. He was still.

Salad finger's eyes, although he hadn't stirred for a while, fluttered open. He looked around the small cabin leisurely, as if looking for an object a friend had lost. His gaze wandered over to the dead man next to him.

"Oh Kenneth…how rude of me…I must get you a place to sleep…Can't have you sleeping on the floor now c…can we?" he chuckled hoarsely. He dragged the body outside and looked around at the bleak landscape, hoping to find something. Eventually, he stared at a spot on the ground outside his house. He got down on his knees and started shovelling with his own hands.

After about an hour, he had a decent-sized hole dug. His fingers were weak and dirty, and he promptly began to chew them. Then, spotting Kenneth's body, stopped, as if a child has just been caught by their parent doing something they shouldn't.

"I…it's only temporary…we don't keep many beds i…in your bunker." He said, chuckling to himself for making a reference about Kenneth's job. Whether it made sense or not didn't seem to bother him. He lifted up the body and gently pushed it into the hole. It didn't fit. It only fitted his torso.

"Oh, the beds not big enough for you." Noted Salad. "Let's get you c…cosy."

He then proceeded to rip off Kenneth's arms. More blood was splattered among the ground. Salad handled them like he was holding a new-born baby.

"Must get you cosy…" he muttered to himself.

Then came his pelvis and legs. It had taken a lot of tearing, but salad had managed to completely rupture it from the rest of the body. The famous 'floor-sugar' became 'floor-jam'. Kenneth was stuffed inside. Salad Fingers began to shovel the dirt back on.

"This duvet is…i…is finest silk." He explained apologetically, as if that wasn't enough for someone as high as Kenneth. "I expect they get b…better in the army." There were tears forming in his eyes.

"G…goodnight Kenneth." He said slowly, scraping tears from his eyes.

The only sound that could be heard was the shovelling of dirt onto the battered body.

_Clunk clunk clunk _


End file.
